


Comfort

by SusanaR



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe G version (DH AU G) [21]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Banter, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:57:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elessar Telcontar is dead, but for Elrohir and Elladan Elrondion, the Fourth Age continues on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: I wrote this to get over a bit of writer's block, and I'm not sure that I like it, but it's not going to get better so I thought that I'd post it. 
> 
> A/N 2: Set in approximately Fourth Age Year 126 
> 
> Quote: 
> 
> “The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”   
> ― Maya Angelou, All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes
> 
> "It is a wise father that knows his own child." - William Shakespeare

Many places had become as home to Elrohir, in the span of his long life. He had apartments, suites, rooms that were 'his' in every Kingdom and major city of Middle Earth. Most often, particularly of late, Elrohir and Elladan were to be found dwelling in the King's House within the tall white Citadel of Minas Tirith, or just to the east in Emyn Arnen. Or if not in Gondor, then in the wood-and-stone King's house of the newly rebuilt city of Annuminas, overlooking the shores of Lake Nenuial, the great lake of Evendim whose far shores could not be seen save on the very clearest of days. 

But Imladris would always be home. 

Elrohir Elrondion pushed a wet braid behind his mostly-pointed ear as he entered the warmth of the study belonging to the Lord of Imladris. The Lord himself sat behind his desk, frowning thoughtfully at a scroll bearing some harried healer's illegible scrawl. Elrohir's twin brother reclined on a settee, tapping one muddy boot against an antique end-table as he read an old book. It was a familiar sight, so familiar in fact that it could have been anytime in the past thousand years. Well, except that the Lord Elrond who looked up with a soft, fond smile to greet him was Elrohir's twice-great nephew, not his father. 

"Hello, Uncle. I hear that you and your blond foils are running both my soldiers AND my children ragged on the practice ground." Faramir's grandson Lord Elrond greeted him, gray-green amused. 

Elrohir grunted an affirmative, before swatting Elladan's feet away from the table. His twin greeted him with a careless half-wave, and a distracted rush of affection through the bond they had shared since infancy. 

Young Lord Elrond lifted one brow at the opaque brevity of Elrohir's answer. Elrohir couldn't help but grin at him in wry fondness. There must have been a hint of melancholy in the affection, since Elrond frowned at him in concern. 

"It is no matter, nephew." Elrohir assured him, "It is just that, for a moment, you recalled my father." The first Lord Elrond had sailed for the West almost one hundred and thirty years ago, leaving three of his children behind him. He had sailed before knowing any of his grandchildren, who now numbered in the dozens. 

"Odd." Nephew Elrond remarked kindly, "I've never seen much resemblance." He gestured to the painting of raven-haired Elrond which hung over the rose-veined marble fireplace. It was Elrond Peredhel relaxed, captured in mid-startled smile. Young Lord Elrond wasn't a blood descendant of the twins or their father Elrond Peredhel, being rather one of Faramir's grandsons through Mithiriel. But his father Theli had been their second cousin, their father's first-cousin once removed, and his closest blood-relation on Middle Earth after his own children. 

"You wouldn't have seen the resemblance, Elrond muin nin." Elladan added fondly, sitting up and closing his book for a moment. "You would have had to have known our father in person. But you may trust our word that you are more than a bit like him." The younger twin explained, while offering Elrohir his wordless, tender, reassuring support. Both twins had more or less gotten past their father's departure well over a century ago, but Aragorn's death had brought renewed grief, particularly as it had followed hard on the heels of other deaths. That, and been followed by many departures of those near and dear to the twins. And to this young Elrond. 

Elrohir shook his head to clear it, refusing to think of those sorrows. Elladan sighed. Elrohir slapped his twin's nearer knee gently, forestalling another silent lecture on the merits of accepting and processing grief. 

*Denial works very well for me, thank you very much, Elrondion-the-most-bossy.* Elrohir told his twin, mind-to-mind, as they were wont to talk amongst themselves. Their nephew smiled faintly, and went back to his scroll. Elladan pursed his rosy lips, undoubtedly thinking that it was Elrohir himself, or possibly Arwen, who was the most bossy of his siblings. 

*No.* Elladan corrected, with a flick of his finger to his own warrior's braids, evoking weaving in a flower. *Andreth* - who had been their first sister and their next-in-age sibling- *was the most bossy. She just hid it well.*

Elrohir thought about conceding that, then suppressed a smile. *She was Elrondiel. You are still the most bossy Elrondion. Unless you care to argue that our younger brother Belemir surpassed you, for surely I myself am always the voice of sweet reason...*

Elladan had to snort disbelievingly at that, but he didn't contest it any further. He just turned back to his book. Robbed of an opportunity to spat with his twin, Elrohir turned back to his nephew Elrond, clearing his throat to regain the attention of Imladris' current ruling Lord. 

"The fighting skills of your children improve apace, nephew." Elrohir said, with no small amount of personal pride, "However, Tandy is still...erratic. Most particularly and dangerously so when she has a blade in her hands." 

Patient young Lord Elrond sighed at that description of his youngest child and only daughter, Tandesi. 

Elladan smirked behind the pages of his ancient book. An ancient book that looked somewhat familiar to Elrohir. He shook his head slightly, and returned to the subject at hand. "Oh, she is gifted enough." Elrohir assured Elrond his nephew "But highly erratic. In fact, she recalls no one so much as...." Just then, Elrohir realized why Elladan's book seemed so familiar. "Elladan!" He exclaimed with a horrified, reproving gasp. 

"What?" Elladan asked, blinking his gray eyes in startled bemusement, before protesting, "I was never THAT erratic of a student warrior. You're fishing for cousin Thranduil, what with the being both volatile and talented. Or maybe Faramir, with the showing his talent and skill at arms so irregularly. Or perhaps even Theli, because Eru only knew what he was going to do at any given moment, with sword or spear or bow or anything else. Certainly he didn't know. In fact, ...." 

"Not that!" Elrohir said sharply, "Your book! Is that...? It is! That's ADA'S journal, Elladan! His personal diary. You can't....you just can't read that!" Elrohir snatched for the book, which Elladan managed to wave just outside of his twin's reach. 

"I don't know why not." Elladan countered levelly, rolling off of the settee to protect his ill-gotten gains. "Ada sailed over a century ago." 

"That doesn't make his private things no longer private, gwanur-nin!" Elrohir scolded his sibling, whilst stalking Elladan across the room. 

No fool Elladan, and no virgin to this game, either. He had a near-perfect knowledge of which furniture in this room was movable without breaking it, and he used that and a speed and grace near-equal to Elrohir's to stay just one step ahead of his twin. 

"Really," Elladan added breathlessly, "If Ada hadn't meant for us to read it, he wouldn't have used a password and locking mechanism that I could crack..." Elladan paused to strew a wooden columnar stand and its resident fragile vase directly into Elrohir's path before continuing, "and with only moderate difficulty, too!" 

Elrohir caught the vase, growling with inarticulate frustration. Their nephew Elrond vacated the room, murmuring something about needing to speak to his wife as a polite pretext for wisely leaving his great uncles to fight this one out between themselves. 

"In that case," Elrohir seethed, as Elladan jumped lightly onto the mantle, dancing in between framed pictures and other valuable knick-knacks, "Why didn't you just crack open Ada's diaries as soon as he sailed? Why wait, after all?" 

Elladan grinned triumphantly as he pulled himself onto a high bookshelf. One of Mithiriel's bookshelves, a later addition to the room, and unsecured. If Elrohir tried to pull his twin down from there, he would pull the whole bookshelf full of valuable, delicate old volumes down along with Elladan. Elrohir conceded the battle with ill grace, standing with his arms crossed, and doing his best impression of their father Lord Elrond in a temper. 

Elladan chortled. "You look like Glorfindel." He observed. 

Elrohir sighed, and gave up intimidation as a bad job. It was his favorite tactic, but it did not always work with his own twin. While any normal elf -or Man - would be quaking in his boots at facing The Great Balrog Slayer, Elladan liked nothing better than to pull Glorfindel's braids. Metaphorically speaking, mostly. Elladan had this occasional suicidal streak which sometimes manifested itself in a desire to infuriate their golden-haired friend and mentor. "Will you come down?" Elrohir demanded instead, gesturing towards the windows and the setting sun, "We both know that you're going to have to leave your safe perch at some point. And when you do, I'll be waiting, so why not save yourself the trouble?" 

"Ha!" Elladan laughed merrily, "Of course I'm coming down at some point, 'Roh, don't be foolish. But first you're going to have to hear me out." 

Squashing his irritation and reluctant pride at his twin's clever strategy, Elrohir gestured for Elladan to go ahead, since he was so very intent on this gross trespass of their father's most private thoughts and memories.

Elladan quickly sobered, crossing his legs and straightening his back as if he were one of the wise men of the far east. "Think, Elrohir." He urged, "Adar knew me, and he knew you. He visited Imladris again after the end of the Ring War, at least once after he knew that he would soon sail to the West and be gone from these lands until the end of Arda. He knew that I would get into everything he left behind eventually. He chose to leave all of his journals here, rather than destroy them or carry them with him." 

Elrohir nodded reluctantly. That much was true. 

"And did Ada ask of you, 'Roh, that you say me nay when I opened his locked chests and pulled forth these volumes? Well, did he?" Elladan continued, his dreamy gray eyes intent upon his twin's. 

"You know perfectly well that he did not." Elrohir replied, through gritted teeth. If their father had left his heir with that instruction, then Elrohir would have brought it up right off. 

"He knew that I would find his journals and read them. And he knew that I could persuade you to, eventually. Or that even if I didn't, that you couldn't stop me from doing as I will." Elladan smiled wryly, "At least not for long." 

True again, but...Elrohir glowered at his twin, "Does the fact that I am YOUR Lord, since our father's departure, not dissuade you?" 

Elladan considered that for a moment, before concluding, "No. Not really. You and I and Arwen all, we abdicated our claim to Imladris, in favor of Mithiriel and Ecthelion and their heirs. We travel so much, you and I, that we would have made poor rulers indeed. So, you are the head of the family, but not my Lord." With another touch of gentle humor, Elladan added, "And besides, Ada was my Lord as well as our father, and even HE couldn't stop us from doing as we willed on any number of occasions, if you will recall. 

True a third time. Yet, still... "It is not right, Elladan." 

"It is not right that you do not speak our father's name, if you can help it." Elladan countered quietly, fire for the first time flickering in his eyes. A flame like unto Elrohir's temper, which had been kindled since seeing their father's memory book in Elladan's hands, but different. Banked, where Elrohir's burned brightly. Sometimes, it was the opposite, and that gave Elrohir pause. The twin who could keep his temper the longest generally won any confrontation between the two of them, and today that seemed to be Elladan. And yet even his ire had been sparked, at last. 

"It is 'not right,'", Elladan continued, "That you do not speak our brother's name. Nor those of his daughters-by-law." 

Elrohir clenched his teeth, in anger or grief, even he was not sure. 

Softly, gently, Elladan concluded, "We all have our own ways of grieving, Elrohir. I miss Ada, and getting to know him better through his own words is my way of dealing with it, my comfort." Elladan left unvoiced that he thought his way better than Elrohir's, since Elladan's way didn't involve making others miserable. "Please, I beg of you, do not deprive me of this, or ask me to deprive myself. It wounds my heart when we are at odds." 

Elrohir silently conceded the argument by extending his hand to his twin. Elladan smiled his thanks, accepting the hand and then stepping lightly down onto Elrohir's bent knee, and then the floor, precious book safely tucked into his green brocade tunic. 

"You are impossible." Elrohir told him, pulling his twin close. 

His forehead lightly touching Elrohir's, Elladan agreed, *Yes. And you would know.*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “...[S]ometimes you just want the comfort of knowing that somebody really does care about you (even if they show it in peculiar ways).”   
> ― Cara Lockwood, I Do (But I Don't)
> 
> “It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses. ”   
> ― Colette

Over the next few days, Elladan read their father's journals, and Elrohir tried to resist the allure. With some success at first, as it turned out that some of Tandesi's uneven sword play was due to a hairline fracture in her left wrist, which she'd successfully hidden not only from Elrohir, but also from Glorfindel and from Grace. A teenager who could manage that was well worth watching. Glorfindel and Elrohir set her to working with her off hand, until her worried Adar curtailed her training 'til the bone knitted completely. Tandesi, like all of this Elrond's children, was almost a quarter an elf, so that would not take particularly long. But it was long enough that it left Elrohir with time to contemplate his twin, and his twin's choice in reading materials. 

"Why now?" Elrohir snapped at Elladan, having never gotten an answer to that question during their earlier altercation. 

Elladan didn't have to ask what the question referred to. As the slightly annoyed young Lord Elrond once again made his increasingly feeble excuses and abandoned his study to his bickering predecessors, Elladan waved a casual hand in the air, not even looking up from his current journal. "'Why did I break into Ada's chests on this visit? That should be obvious, brother. Because Erestor has sailed, and because Daerada Celeborn is not here, of course." 

Even Elrohir had to laugh at that. "Erestor would not have approved." 

Elladan smiled impishly. "No. He's always been rather staid, like that." 

"Oh, just give me the first volume, already." Elrohir caved with a self-disgusted grimace. He'd been dying of curiosity. 

Chuckling, Elladan fished one of the more battered journals off of a low bookshelf built into the marble walls. "Here. This is the first. It starts perhaps a year after Uncle Elros sailed off to found Numenor. Adar was lonely then, and the journal was a gift from his cousin the Aran Ereinion Gil-galad. It was meant to break Ada of the rather disturbing habit he'd picked up of talking to himself." Elrond Peredhel's twin sons shared a moment of sad, perfect understanding for how their father must have felt, bereft of his twin. Elrohir reached forward to pull Elladan tightly against him, again. 

"Oof." Said Elladan, but it was not a complaint. He patted Elrohir's shoulder, and made room for his twin beside him on the cushioned window seat. "You can have all of the first shelf, there. I'm reading about the War of the Men and Elves and Sauron, now." 

Elrohir frowned, "You've made your way through 1,600 years of journals, already?" He hadn't thought that even Elladan was that fast of a reader. 

"Oh, no. I'm just skipping around to the most interesting parts." Elladan explained. 

"You are terrible, about that." Elrohir reproved lightly. "You have to read a series in order. Otherwise, how can you appreciate all of the nuances of its rich complexities?" 

Elladan rolled his eyes. "If it's all the same to you, bossy-ears, I'll read Ada's forbidden journals in whatsoever order I please." 

Elrohir abandoned the argument with a dismissive wave. It was an old disagreement, between the twins, and one not likely to ever be resolved. 

"Did you know," Elladan leaned forward animatedly, "That Ada was truly awful about so many things, when Glorfindel and the blue Wizards first sailed? Did you know that Ada KNEW those troublemakers? Did you know that..." 

"Elladan!" Elrohir objected sharply, "If you tell me what happens next I will smack you! Now hush, and let me read it on my own." 

The next several days passed amiably enough. Elladan and Elrohir read their father's journals in his study, while its current master indulgently -or indignantly, with some of Faramir's get it could be hard to tell - tolerated their invasion of his work space. Occasionally the sulking Tandesi joined them, to the mutual amusement of her twin several-times-great-uncles. The following third day, their harmony was disturbed. 

"Elrohir!" Called a loud, carrying voice, followed by a cacophonous banging. 

"Please do enter, Lord Glorfindel!" The young Lord Elrond answered hastily, probably hoping to save the integrity of his door. Either that, or his ear drums. Either twin could have assured him that this particular door could have stood up to Glorfindel in a hurry - after all, it had been redone and refashioned over the centuries until it could. 

"Ah, there you are!" Glorfindel said with satisfaction, upon spying Elrohir. Then his lips twitched with mirth as Elrohir winced, and tried to hide his father's journal behind his back. 

"About time the two of you got into those." The Balrog Slayer remarked cheerfully. 

Elladan smiled and nodded, while Elrohir almost dropped his book in surprise. 

"Share." Glorfindel ordered. Still stricken dumb, Elrohir obeyed, handing Glorfindel the earliest volume, which he had completed several days previously. The fierce elleth Grace, who had followed in Glorfindel's wake, looked on curiously until she ascertained that the objects of her friends' interest were all books. 

"I go find Mine." She told them, typically unimpressed with anything in written form. 

"That should prove interesting." Elladan murmured. Elrohir sighed. He rather doubted that their friend and sworn-brother Melpomaen would be anything but unimpressed and disappointed in their current past-time. But that didn't answer his current question....

"Why?" Elrohir asked Glorfindel, "Don't you think that we should be respecting Adar's privacy? After all, if he'd wanted these read, he would have put them out on the shelf, not hidden in locked chests within locked chests." 

Glorfindel eyed Elrohir with kind, knowing eyes. "I miss him, too, guren. Knowing your father as I did, I cannot think that he would begrudge us this. Be irritated, yes, but honored as well." Casting a faintly chiding look at both twins, Glorfindel added, "I do think that he'd want me to be here to answer your questions, at least about those things which happened after 1600 S.A." 

"Oh, yes!" Elladan enthused, "I had wanted to ask you about...." 

"Hush!" Elrohir interrupted, "Elladan, I'm not even there yet!" 

Glorfindel chuckled, accustomed to his beloved students' antics, and made himself comfortable on Elladan's abandoned settee. 

Five hours later, Erestor's son Melpomaen found them still there, Lord Elrond Peredhel's many journals stacked carefully on tables around them. 

"You should all be ashamed of yourselves." The twins' long-time companion told them firmly, "Even you, Anatar." 

Glorfindel grinned toothily. "I like you when you're sassy, Melpomaen." 

Melpomaen ignored his father's grandfather in favor of appealing directly to Elrohir, "Really, 'Roh? You know that Ada would be distressed by this." Grace stood by Melpomaen's side, nodding solemnly. Elrohir frankly doubted whether the formally feral elleth even knew what the exact topic of conversation was about. She probably just wanted her normal playmates, Glorfindel and Elrohir, to finish mucking about inside with these boring books and go back to the arms practice and war games which would have normally consumed their fifth-day afternoon. 

"Your Ada would." Elrohir agreed guiltily. "But I'm not sure about mine - ours. Elladan thinks that he would find it acceptable..." 

Melpomaen laughed sharply, interrupting his Lord, "Oh, of course ELLADAN thinks that. And I'm sure that Elladan spent the first few days after our arrival closeted with the locksmiths and chemists just because Lord Elrond so very much wanted the two of you to read through his journals that he made it difficult enough to take Elladan that long and that much effort to get into." 

Elrohir gave his twin an annoyed look. It didn't faze Elladan in the slightest. 

"Ada always did like to challenge us." Elladan reminisced primly, "You know that, Melpomaen-our-brother." 

Melpomaen turned to Glorfindel in mute appeal. The Balrog Slayer had been just watching the proceedings with indulgent amusement. Now he grinned again, "Melpomaen, as you well know, Elrohir and Elladan are Lord Elrond Peredhel's heirs by blood and law. If anyone has a right to determine the disposition of his property - even his well-protected personal property - it would be them." 

"Come on, Mel..." Elladan said sweetly, appealingly, "Some of Ada's journals talk about the first time he met your father. You know, the story of the hawk and Ada making assumptions, only the whole story, this time." 

Elrohir, seeing Melpomaen weaken a little, added to his brother's pitch, "Your Ada was quite the absent-minded young scholar, when our Ada first took Erestor under his wing. As a matter of fact, he spent rather a large amount of time over Ada's knee, for things like...." 

"Stop!" Melpomaen cried out, giving both twins a reproving look. He was a master at it, having had many centuries of practice. Melpomaen sighed as this one fell far short of its desired effect. 

"I am very disappointed in all of you." Melpomaen told them calmly. "I will leave you to your disrespectful peeping." Melpomaen swept out of the room, doing an excellent impression of Erestor in righteous protest. Grace's soprano piped in his wake, cajoling the twins' long-time friend and advisor to join her outside. 

"200 years." Elladan stated, throwing one gold coin down on the table. 

"You have underestimated your gwador's curiosity, I think." Glorfindel commented, his sapphire blue eyes glinting. "He is also my wife's great-nephew, and Laureamoriel had more than her fair share of curiosity." 

"You're taking under, then?" Elrohir asked, as Glorfindel cast his own gold coin onto the table. 

"We're not doing over/under!" Elladan interrupted hastily, "The two of you always end up fleecing me on over/under gambles." 

"Only because you make it so very easy, guren." Glorfindel teased, pulling on one of Elladan's dark braids. 

"No over/under." Elladan said firmly, "You each have to name a specific year. Then whoever out of the three of us comes the closest gets a dozen hours of the losers' free time over a week, to do with as he pleases."

Glorfindel nodded his acceptance, "Very well. My guess is fifty years." He considered that for a moment, as Elrohir had yet to cast his coin, "No, make that fifty and one." 

"Like that matters, Glor." Elrohir teased in turn, tossing his coin. "I say that it will be one hundred and twenty years from today, until Melpomaen breaks and reads the first journal." That settled, the three returned to their reading. 

The sweet chill of early spring gave way to the riotous sunny splendor of summer in the hidden valley, while Elladan and Elrohir and Lord Glorfindel read of the many exploits of Lord Elrond in their father's and friend's own words. Glorfindel, finding the occasional exploit he hadn't known about or incensed by how differently Elrond had seen a given situation, would often "harrumph" or laugh at his young Lord's presumption, guile, and quick wit. He had no shame in pointing out examples of how and in what ways the twins took after their father. 

The twins, too, had known their father's history in broad strokes, better than did most of Middle Earth, but even they had been shocked by one adventure or another. 

"Glor," Elrohir exclaimed in impressed horror, "Did Ada actually give himself over as a hostage to SAURON, in order to win for the remaining elves of Eregion safe passage to his- your-army?" 

"Yeesss." Glorfindel growled, before sighing, and doing something that looked to Elrohir an awful lot like counting silently to ten a couple of times. "I was absolutely terrified for him. And for all of us, if we lost him."

"Ah..." said Elladan haltingly, "I guess its a good thing that worked out, then." 

Glorfindel smacked one hand down on the blue settee hard enough to scare away the black cat sleeping on the other end of it. "Yes, Elladan, it was. And good for your father's hide that we were too busy, then and for some time after he was rescued, for me to have a proper discussion with him about how very stupid I thought that particular stunt had been." 

"He mentioned that." Elladan pointed out, "And that he'd always remember how your eyes looked, in that moment. How he'd never seen them burn brighter - with worry and with fear and love, too." 

Glorfindel took another deep breath. Then, considering both twins, he related softly, "Yes, well, Elrond knew that he held my heart from the beginning. And sometimes - very rarely, but sometimes- he took terrible advantage of it." 

Moments of high emotion such as that reoccurred over irregular intervals as the three elves made their way through the journals. Elladan, with his way of hopping through them, reached the War of the Last Alliance first. 

"Oh, THIS is interesting..." He murmured, eyes as wide in genuine surprise as Elrohir had ever seen them. 

"Don't, Elladan." Elrohir reminded his twin for possibly the thousandth time since they'd started reading the journals, "I'M NOT THERE YET." 

"No, but really, 'Roh, you have to see this." Elladan argued, covering the top of the page with a large cloth book mark so that only the bottom paragraphs were visible. Glorfindel looked on curiously, as Elladan motioned over the young Lord Elrond as well. 

"Look - here." Elladan indicated, "Ada was planning to ADOPT your father, Elrond-dithen, if the Greenwood healers hadn't of let him stay with their army." 

Young Elrond blinked in surprise, much as his father likely would have, were Theli here for this revelation. Shocked, Elrohir shook his head, "That would have made your father Theli - who was our second cousin, had we but known it - our elder brother. Depending on the terms of that proposed adoption..." 

"Ada detailed them. Upon our birth, we would have taken his place in the succession, and on down through Arwen. So, in ultimate political terms, it would not have been too much a sea-change. But in personal terms...." 

"And in immediate political terms." Glorfindel interjected, "Remember, my elflings, at that point in time your father HAD NO HEIR. Nor hope of getting one quickly, since he was not yet married. The Vice-roy of Imladris, who was also Aran Ereinoin's heir, not to mention in the lines of succession for both Lothlorien and Greenwood, and he goes off adopting a young, untutored silvan elf of completely unknown antecedents...." Glorfindel chuckled and grinned, "Well, that would have set the cat among the pigeons right and properly, oh yes indeed." 

"Did you not know of it, Lord Glorfindel?" Young Lord Elrond asked, shocked. Elrohir was still reeling from the surprise a bit, himself, imagining how different it would have been to have grown up in a household where Theli was their father's elder adopted son. Where, by law if not blood, their second cousin who now ruled Imladris would be their nephew in fact. 

"I did not know of Elrond's plan to adopt your father." Glorfindel told Elrond's namesake kindly, "However, I DID know that he was making contingency plans, for if Oropher's healers had decided to send their crazy little runaway back home to the great wood. Your father was determined that Theli be permitted to stay with the army, as was his wish. To the extent that our Elrond had already set himself at odds with Oropher's elves, and even Ereinion, over the matter. Something which Elrond, diplomat that he was, did not do lightly." 

"Hunh." Commented Elladan, still bemused. "Well, that just shows that I was right to be jealous and resentful of Theli for so long, for his place in Ada's affections." 

"Ugh, 'Dan." Elrohir objected, tossing a pillow at his twin, while Glorfindel did the same. 

"No offense, little Elrond." Elladan offered their nephew. 

"Er...none taken, Uncle?" Young Elrond said, still not entirely sure that he understood all of what was going on. 

As the date of departure for their planned journey to Minas Tirith loomed closer, Elladan, with the help of young Lord Elrond and even the reluctant Melpomaen, found family members resident at Imladris who were competent enough scribes to begin transcribing two copies each of Lord Elrond's many journals. Glorfindel and Elrohir were, of course, hopeless at the task, and they, and Elladan, were still too busy reading, besides. But young Lord Elrond's wife, Miyala, and several of their grown sons, wrote a fine hand. As did Su-Tai, Faramir's grandson by his fourth daughter Haleth,. And also the twins' twice-great-niece Laerchiriel, the granddaughter of Aragorn's and Arwen's older daughter Melyanna. 

On one night several days before their planned departure for Minas Tirith, the twins and Glorfindel read late into the wee hours of the morning. The fires had gone out twice, and been lit again, and the stars of the morning were shining, when Elrohir picked up one of the last journals. Not to read- he wasn't there yet - but to set aside for Laerchiriel to copy for Arwen and her children. A letter fell out of the book. Elrohir frowned, and reached down to pick it up. 

'My Dearest Elladan,' the letter began, in their father's elegant handwriting. 'For I would be shocked, if it were not you to be the first to page through this book. By Eru and all of the Valar, I will miss you terribly, ion-nin, you and your brothers and sister. You will be always in my heart until we see one another again. I would far rather tell you more of the story of my life in person, but that, I fear, will not be possible for many years, and not at all in the case of your sister, and....' there Lord Elrond's fine hand faltered, 'perhaps yourself as well. So, please know that you have my blessing to open the memories of my past and pick them apart as you have always desired to do. Please love Arwen's and Estel's children for me, and share with them whatsoever from these volumes you would care to. Please know that I wish I were still with you, and that my dearest hope is to see you all again.' The letter continued in an affectionate tone, asking Elladan and his siblings to look upon their father kindly and to please, Eru, not feel it necessary to emulate every foolish thing he'd ever done, but Elrohir could not continue reading. Tears filled his eyes as he allowed himself at last to truly mourn his father, aye, and Aragorn, and so many others, too. 

Elladan and Glorfindel gave him space, at first. Which is what he would have wanted, Elrohir thought. What he'd actually wanted - or thought that he'd wanted - was never to have to realize how much he'd lost. Baby brothers - both of them, and baby sister, too, in time. And father and mother and younger sister, and cousin - almost brother - Theli, and his wife their granddaughter of the heart. 

Elladan came to him, and put a comforting arm around Elrohir. "Shh," He murmured to his twin, "It will be alright, Elrohir. I miss them, and will miss them, forever. But we still have time, with Arwen. And we will see Ada again, and Theli and Mithiriel and probably young Elrond's brother Nestor, as well." 

Elrohir forgot about being strong for himself, for Elladan, for everyone, and clung to his brother. Worst, worst of all, "We...'we'....my dearest brother. 'We' MIGHT see Ada again." 

"Whatever do you mean?" Elladan asked worriedly, trying to sooth his brother but in the strange and unpleasant position of not knowing exactly what troubled Elrohir. 

"He means, Elladan guren," Glorfindel explained, coming to kneel beside them both, "that he is worried -we all worry, from time to time- that we will lose you to the love of some fine human woman." 

Elladan paused in shock. 

"You can't say that you haven't thought of it." Elrohir accused brokenly, "Time and time again you've fallen in love with one human woman after another." 

Elladan remained quiet, struggling with what to say. 

"I couldn't bear it if you stayed, and died, Elladan." Elrohir whispered, "I should be the strong one, but I'm not, for that. I would fade if you stayed, if I lost you." 

Elladan shook his head fiercely, "It won't come to that....it won't!" He swore. 

"Of course it won't." Glorfindel soothed them both, "If Elladan does make Luthien's choice, and his chosen love is not also of her line," there Glorfindel had to pause, for no one exactly understood how it was that Mithiriel and Theli - and their children- had been given the option of choosing an elven life or a human one, after Theli had made Luthien's choice for Faramir's daughter. 

"If Elladan does become mortal," Glorfindel continued, his own voice broken up at the thought, "Then I shall carry you to the West, Elrohir. My word of honor upon it, to you and your twin. And so I already swore to your father, 'ere he sailed West." 

For a moment the three of them just sat together, entwined in an embrace of utmost love, fear of pain, and relief. Then Elladan, who could never leave a solemn moment in peace, had to ask in a vaguely affronted tone of voice, "How did Ada even know of my romantic interests, anyway?" 

"He wasn't blind, Elladan." Glorfindel pointed out dryly. "Oh, the three of you hid it well, but over time gossip gets out. And he's your father - I think he sensed it." 

"I don't plan on it, Elrohir." Elladan said more seriously, "I don't plan on falling in love with a human. I can swear to that. And I don't think that I will...they all seem so young now, differently so from when I was younger, from before the war. My focus is on you, now, my brother. On you and Arwen and our family - our large family. On keeping an eye on all of them, seeing that they reach their potential." Elladan nodded at the window, from which they could see Tandesi and her brothers in the early morning mist, playing a game involving balls and sticks with a dozen or so other younglings, human and elven in almost equal numbers. 

Elrohir nodded numbly, and squeezed his brother's wrist. Returning more to himself, he realized that he felt better than he had since Aragorn's funeral. Which led him to the unpleasant realization that, in his grief, he'd acted more than just a bit the jerk. He groaned. 

Elladan and Glorfindel exchanged knowing looks and quick-silver, there-and-gone-again smiles. 

"Why didn't either of the two of you just say something?!" Elrohir objected aggrievedly, only to be answered by Glorfindel's loud guffaws. 

Elrohir's twin brother just sat beside Elrohir, rolling his eyes and sighing, as Glorfindel lay on the carpet and laughed until tears came out of the sides of his eyes. 

"What he means, brother," Elladan explained with dry affection, "Is that it can be somewhat hard to 'just tell' you things. You don't listen until you're ready. Much like Ada, in some ways." 

Elrohir leaned his head back against the rose-veined marble of the study, shut his eyes, and just thought for a moment. Again, Elladan had spoken the truth. Finally, he sighed, and looked apologetically to his brother and his mentor. 

"I'm sorry. I'll try to make it up to you." 

Glorfindel, somber again, shook his head. As did Elladan, explaining, "No. Not to us, there is no need. We have been through too much together, gwanur. But you should make it up to young Elrond, and to his children." 

"And to everyone else we've visited in the past several years." Glorfindel added dryly, before correctly himself, "Well, except for Arwen and Eldarion and the girls. You've been good with them, Eru bless you, Elrohir, but you've been a right prat to poor Faramir, amongst others." 

Elrohir winced, but could not disagree. Instead, over their last few days in Imladris, Elrohir dedicated himself to making sure that he spent time with his nephews and nieces. He learned how to play the stick-and-ball game, finding it unexpectedly fun. He also told them stories, including some that he'd just learned from his father's journals. Cleaned up, of course, since Elrond had spared himself nothing when writing in his memory books. Sitting in the light of the late spring garden, with nephews and nieces and their human and elven friends gathered around him, Elrohir realized that this was exactly what his father would have wanted. Imladris still in bloom, long after his departure. And many grandchildren, each different and beautiful in their own way.


End file.
